


One Day

by pulpriter



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-30
Updated: 2015-07-30
Packaged: 2018-04-12 00:13:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4457909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pulpriter/pseuds/pulpriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A day in the life</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Day

**Author's Note:**

> Serious Season 3 spoilers. Takes place after Episode 8.  
> I don't own these characters, I just love them.  
> Please review.

Senior Detective Inspector Jack Robinson sat eating his usual breakfast of tea and toast with jam. He normally woke early, did some calisthenics (a habit retained from his days in the service), then looked over the newspaper as he ate. As he did, his mind wandered. “What must she be up to?”

The Honourable Miss Phryne Fisher leaned back in bed, sipping the tea that had been brought to her. She was still not used to waking in the bedroom at Fisher Hall. She gazed blindly out the window, noting that it seemed to be a pleasant day. “I wonder what he’s doing just now?” 

###

As he made his way to work at City South, Jack considered that his world was much the same as it had always been, but without a certain Phryne Fisher: and as he had once said to her, what kind of world would that be?  
Jack arrived at the station and strode back to his office. His desk was piled with paperwork to take care of; he hoped there would be an interruption. It would be wrong to hope for a murder, but they didn’t have to be hoped for, they happened much too frequently. 

Phryne meandered down to the dining room, where a breakfast buffet awaited her. She chose a pleasant selection of foods and sat down to enjoy her meal. At home in Melbourne, this was the time that she liked to use to plan her day; but here in England, days were mostly planned for her, and no one had any particular expectations of her, except to attend entertainments arranged for her enjoyment. 

###

Jack opened his desk drawer to get a pencil, and had to push his gun to one side. Doing so made him think of Phryne’s golden, pearl-handled revolver. Why not diamond-encrusted, too? He chuckled. He’d do better never to suggest it! He thought with amusement how that little popgun had saved the day more than once; and Phryne wasn’t afraid to use it. Brave Phryne, with her pistol in her purse. A rare woman indeed.

Phryne was rearranging things from one purse to another. She removed her pistol, then decided she had better keep it with her. She was reminded of how very judicious Jack was when it came to using a gun. He never used it if there was another option. There was one exception that had not escaped Phryne’s notice: when Sidney Fletcher pointed a gun at her, Jack barely paused long enough to take aim before firing the shot that knocked Fletcher off the boat into the water below. 

###

While sitting at his desk working, Jack gazed at the spot where Phryne regularly leaned, lounged, or sat. He thought back to the day she sat on his desk flaunting her elegant legs. He hadn’t been able to look away. And how often had she flashed her garters at him? There was no doubt she knew exactly the effect she was having. Jack smiled at his own weakness: he fell for it every time. 

Phryne was choosing clothing for the evening, and came across a black dress similar to the one she had worn at the cocktail party for her Tennis Invitational. She remembered with irritation the way Angela Lombard hinted that Jack had undressed her. Dear Jack, he never seemed to realize the effect he might have on a woman. His disregard was quite enticing, actually.

###

He had never thought to be attracted to such a glamourous woman. He thought of her array of furs, feathers, and jewels. Amazing jewelry—Colombian emeralds?—the likes of which he could never afford. Again he wondered what he could ever offer her…and yet, he had noted that the little swallow pin he gave her was solidly attached to her scarf the day she left. She must have some fondness for his poor offerings, at least. 

She had never thought to be attracted to a policeman! Even if he was a fine specimen, in her opinion; and of course, as she had put it long ago, he was “a rather civilized detective”. Right from the beginning, he had been more than she expected; even when she thought she had him pegged, he had surprised her over and over. But more than that, what other man had ever made her the priceless offer of his trust, his respect, his encouragement? 

###

Jack left his office and took a walk to the nearest piecart. It was 3:30, and once again he had forgotten to eat lunch, caught up in the business of the day. He grabbed a sandwich and a piece of fruit to take back to the office, and then decided to get a piece of pie as well. As late as it was, it would save him bothering with an evening meal.  
Jack thought briefly about his meals at Stranno’s. He had enjoyed the attention of the lovely Concetta, it was true, but he hadn’t suspected she felt so strongly. He never meant to be careless of her affection, and had very seriously considered her offer of marriage. They could have made a go of it, perhaps…  
Fortunately, she had sensed something that saved him from making that decision. But he wouldn’t return to Stranno’s. 

Phryne sat in a palatial dining room, with a lavish meal in front of her. It was all just too much—the meal tasted like sawdust to her, although she knew there was nothing wrong with it. Her mind drifted to meals she had shared with Jack. He never seemed to think much about eating, unless she tempted him with Mr. Butler’s delicacies. Or might he go to eat at Stranno’s? Phryne thought of the beautiful Italian woman who had seemed so attached to Jack. Phryne bit her lip. Concetta would be perfect for Jack. She would look after him lovingly, be content to make a home for him, manage his life, keep him satisfied. Nothing like the will-o’-the-wisp I am, Phryne thought.  
She sighed. Jack deserved to be happy. And yet—he had come to her, that night, saying, “Stranno’s is closed.” Could it mean what she had hoped it might?

###

After working all day, Jack unlocked the door to his empty house. Once, he had been a married man, with someone to greet him when he returned home each evening, to share intimacies, to share ideas…well, not so much the latter. Rosie had always had ideas, but they hadn’t meshed very well with Jack’s own plans and wishes. Eventually, she had left him, and later found a fellow with all the money and connection she had longed for—and how horribly that had turned out. Poor woman. He wondered sometimes how she was faring.  
By the time Rosie had at last asked for a divorce, Jack’s heart had not been capable of breaking. It had been worn to the quick by years of very civil hostility. But when Phryne inevitably cast him aside, he wondered how he would get through it. 

Phryne’s mother had arranged for her to be invited to the dinner party. Bored by her companions, she was watching a married couple several seats away who were rumored to be near divorce.  
She thought of the night of the party for Guy and Isabella. It was only long after the fact that she realized that, on the evening when she had teased Jack about a “gaudy night” and tried to tempt him to the limits, he had come to her raw from the public humiliation that was divorce court. And yet, he was there, because she had asked him to help her not to be afraid of shadows.  
It made her think of Rosie, the woman who could divorce Jack Robinson. What a fool, to have such a man and not know what to do with him.  
Phryne’s musings came to a sudden halt; it occurred to her that she herself, with all her experience of men, didn’t know what to do with him, either. But although she might have flown away from him, she had let him know this wasn’t over.

###

Phryne had somehow encouraged him to divulge all manner of personal information that he hadn’t imagined sharing with anyone, let alone a beautiful socialite who fancied herself a detective and then proved that she was one. From the beginning he had trusted her, first with evidence and information about cases, and later with admissions about his own private life. He had sensed that his disclosures would be safe with her. 

Jack knew her better than any other man she’d known…perhaps because he actually listened to her. He listened, he challenged, he never let up, he never condescended, he always expected as much from her as she expected from herself. She had let him into her most private moments in a way she had allowed no one else, not even Rene. He must realize how very important he had become to her. 

###

Jack sat with just one lamp lighting the quiet room, drinking whiskey, thinking about Phryne. He’d made a fool of himself over and over with her. He’d made admissions, declarations, once tried to leave her and failed. She’d rubbed his nose in her many assignations, and still, he couldn’t seem to walk away.  
He knew it couldn’t last. He would be just another conquest, and he was finally ready to accept that. He knew that it wasn’t her way to be serious about a man, although sometimes it felt as if he mattered to her. But even the prospect of his kiss in the moonlight, which she claimed to want “more than anything”, wasn’t interesting enough to hold her attention when she saw a clue. 

Phryne sat alone in her parents’ parlour, sipping cognac, thinking of Jack. She considered how she had opened herself up to him more and more. He had seen her at her worst, in her weakest moments, her grief, her fear: even the wretched spiders… None of it seemed to scare him off. He was always there when she needed him.  
When he said he wouldn’t ever ask her to change, she didn’t really believe him, although she felt he believed it at the time. But he seemed to accept whatever she asked of him. And what had she given in return? She had spent her adult life avoiding any sort of entanglement, but for the first time, it felt like something she might take a chance on. For the first time, she thought she might want something that could last.

###

“I’m not her kind of man,” he thought. “I wish I could be…no, I don’t. I wish…” He didn’t know what he wished. 

“He’s not my usual style,” Phryne thought. “That’s what Compton said.” But what would Compton know about it?

###

Having failed with one woman, he now seemed to want nothing more than to leap into a romance that was destined for heartache. Perhaps he didn’t make very good choices when it came to women. It didn’t matter. He would follow this through to the end, although he’d probably be sorry. 

She had allowed her fears to dictate that she always chose the careless, the casual, the fling that she didn’t mind losing. But perhaps at last she had met the man that she dared to take a risk on. Could she be brave enough to take the step that hovered in the back of her mind? 

###

He missed her. Plain and simple. Life felt colorless now that she was gone. 

Phryne had never recognized that her life was lonely, until she shared it with Jack; now that she was away from him, it seemed terribly empty. 

###

Ah, Phryne. Jack raised his glass in a toast to the empty air before him, and laughed at himself. How had he become such a fool? He stood and walked toward the bedroom. 

Oh, Jack… Phryne put her glass onto the ornate side table beside her, and with a shrug, brushed at her eyes. When had she become so foolish? Quietly, she rose and went to her bed.


End file.
